


addicted to every part of you

by Simplistic_Fish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Dean is literally addicted to Castiels Grace yall, Dean says Fuck cause why the fuck wouldn’t he., M/M, One Shot, am I projecting., cas is a He/They, gAy wahoo, no editing we die like men, yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simplistic_Fish/pseuds/Simplistic_Fish
Summary: Dean awoke with a deep craving of something he couldn’t place. He ignored it until it became clear that it was caused by the angel that saved him from Hell. And he didn’t know how to handle his addiction to them, Grace and All.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	addicted to every part of you

Dean was exhausted, turns out digging himself from a grave was more difficult than he thought it would be. The September sun was surprisingly hot as he walked down the barren road. He had no idea where the fuck he was, he assumed it was in the Midwest near Kansas.

He was thirsty, and hungry by the sounds his stomach was making. He was also craving something else he couldn’t place. It felt like a craving all through his body, was it chocolate? Whiskey? He shook his head. He would just figure it out later. 

He discovered the handprint on his arm in the empty gas station he found. He matched up his own hand to it and found the craving he had was soothed a little by it. ‘What the fuck?’ 

He shook his head and covered the scar with sleeve again, he would deal with that shit with Sam. But as soon as he started to ignore the print his senses seemed hyper aware of it and he wanted to hold onto it forever. He pushed that feeling into his gut and went to find food in the rest of the station. 

He was starving but the first thing he shoved in his mouth was a chocolate bar he saw lying on the shelf. He could already hear Sam berating him for not choosing something healthier. He found a horrid highly fetishized magazine on the shelf as he explored the rest of the building, he grinned and shoved it in his bag after flipping through. No one was there to judge him and he found it a little funny that it was the first thing he found. He took roughly 20 dollars in cash at the register, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why it hadn’t been cleared out by the employees. 

Then the TV behind him turned on, the screen just static. He went to turn it off and as soon as he did the feeling he had shoved down decided to resurface and he went a little dizzy from the feeling. Fuck. He felt pure euphoria in just touching the button, but the feeling was so sudden that he pulled back almost immediately in shock. He turned back around, shaking off the buzzing in his body. The radio next to him turned on, he jumped, the TV turned on again behind him. Something was here. And whatever it was made his whole body feel like cotton.

He ran around the counter to where he saw salt, and attempted to cover the door's small window sill with it. A ringing he hadn’t realized was present got louder, it was starting to become unbearable. He tried to keep pouring salt with one ear covered but soon fell to the ground, fuck he was going to die… again. ‘Fuck, fuck fuck.’ Then it stopped. Dean stood up, his body aching. But he couldn’t tell if it was from the ringing in his ears or from the lack of the warm presence he craved. 

Sam’s number went flat, his attempt to call Bobby went sour and the dial tone taunted him. He didn’t want to stay and figure it out so he left as soon as he could and hot wired the first car he saw. 

He was terrified. Every once in a while he noticed he was clutching the print on his arm like a lifeline, it was allowing him to calm down and breathe as the shock from the last few hours hit him. Four months. Fuck. Every time he shut his eyes he could see the actual hell he went through for hundreds of years. But only four months had actually passed. He hoped Sammy was still alive. 

He also hoped they believed his dumbass and didn’t try to kill him when they first saw him. He should probably prepare for that. 

~~~

He was livid, the feeling he was brushing away was full force and a little itchy, he was attempting to focus on the 40th rune he was spray painting.He needed something to distract him, a girl maybe even a drink.

He hadn’t brought up the feeling to Sam or Bobby, didn’t mention how he was in a bliss he had never experienced as Pamela had her eyes burned from her head. 

Castiel. He was addicted to the presence that Castiel brought with them. And he hated it. 

So, he decided he would get rid of it the only way he knew how. Killing it. He soon finished up the spray paint mural that had taken a good hour, every single muscle in his hand was cramped. Bobby stopped trying to make conversation after Dean had snapped at him for the tenth time that day. But after an hour the silence was killing him. He approached the table with all of his weapons and surveyed them, looking for anything they could possibly be missing. Bobby finished his last rune and started to walk over.

“That’s a hell of an art project you got goin on there.” Bobby said, looking around at their handiwork and Dean’s collection. “Traps and Talismans from every faith on the globe… How you doin?” 

“Stakes, iron, silver, salt, a knife- I mean, we are pretty much set to catch or kill anything I’ve ever heard of.” Dean looked up, he was fairly confident in his words, whatever showed up he could kill it. He had to. 

“This is still a bad idea.” 

Dean sighed, he was too itchy and flustered to deal with this. “ Yeah, Bobby, I heard you the first 10 times.” He looked up at the older man but didn’t make full eye contact. “What do you say we ring the dinner bell?” He hoped his own shit humor would cheer the both of them up but if anything it seemed to dampen the mood. 

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and walked over to where he had the materials for his incantation set up. He began to speak in Latin and Dean shook off his nerves and prepared for the worst. 

But nothing happened. Bobby finished his spell and they waited frozen in place and listening for anything. It was silent, they could hear the crickets outside. 

“Well that’s not very exciting.” Bobby muttered. 

“Maybe you didn’t say it right?” Dean asked, his eyes still glued to the door, his heart was racing. He just wanted Castiel to show up. ‘Please oh God I don’t know how much longer I can last.’ He wanted to tear his hair out, he couldn’t stand the feeling his body was creating. He needed the spell to work. 

More time passed and the two men started to get comfortable as they waited, Dean picked up the Demon killing knife from the table. He began to twirl it in his fingers. 

They waited for another 20 minutes, by that point Dean was ready to leave, he couldn’t. Bobby would ask why he was so jumpy, so impatient. He had to sit there and keep up his calm facade. He dug the tip of the knife into the table he sat on. 

“Are you sure you did the ritual right?”

Bobby looked at him, he didn’t have to answer the question out loud, Dean could read it easily from the annoyance on his face. 

“Sorry. Touchy, Touchy, huh.” He set the knife down. As soon as he did he heard a large bang on the roof as if something had slammed into it. Both men jumped to their feet. Deans heart began to race again. The roof continued to rattle and bang, he looked around trying to place exactly where the sound was. 

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind.” 

The lights around them began to shatter and sparks rained around them. ‘What the fuck?’ The double doors burst open like an old western sheriff entering a bar. 

In the flashes of the lights attempting to work he saw a person in a what looked like a trench coat approach them. Bobby fired the first shot from his shotgun and Dean, who hadn’t realized he even grabbed a gun, followed suit. 

He couldn’t tell if they were just missing the man or if the bullets didn’t mean anything to him. Then he finally saw a few of their shots hit him when he got closer, he merely disregarded them as if he was getting hit with cotton balls. 

Dean and Bobby looked at each other for answers, realizing they had none Dean dropped his gun and walked over to grab the Demon knife. He was hit full force with bliss and he felt a little light headed. God it felt amazing. He turned back around to find the beautiful man already in front of him. 

“Who are you?” Dean asked through gritted teeth, trying to conceal the fact that he was trying not to fall over and lay in the mere presence of Castiel. And although he already knew the answer he needed the verbal confirmation. 

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” 

Damn he needed a better pick up line. Dean stared at him to check if he was lying. He wasn’t. 

“Thanks for that.” Dean plunged his knife into Castiels chest. Finally. He hoped to whatever the fuck was listening that it worked, he would be free from the overwhelming feeling of Castiel. 

He released the blade when the man gave no reaction. Dean backed up. ‘Shit shit shit.’ But he looked down and stared in horror and Castiel took the knife from his chest without flinching and dropped it on the floor, all while keeping eye contact with Dean. 

Just looking into his eyes made Dean want to moan in ecstasy. Even the thought of that happening scared the shit out of him. He clamped it down and shoved the feeling deep where Castiel couldn’t pull it out again. 

Dean looked at Bobby for support and he watched as Castiel blocked the heavy blow that almost hit his head. They swiveled around after breaking contact with Dean, and set 2 fingers on the older man. Dean watched as Bobby collapsed. 

‘Is he dead? Please no. Please don’t be dead.’ 

Castiel turned back around. “We need to talk Dean. Alone.” 

Dean could only look at him in shock, he didn’t want to be alone with him. Just being in the same room a good 4 feet apart made every cell in Dean’s body go into over drive. So he ignored the man and rushed to Bobby. 

Checked his pulse. 

“Your friend is alive.” 

‘Yea figured that out thanks.’ Dean looked up to see Castiel skimming through the spell book they had. “Who are you?” 

“Castiel” 

“Yeah I figured that much, what are you?” 

“I’m an angel of the lord.” 

Fucking Bullshit. Dean called it now. He was going fucking insane if he was addicted to whatever was leaking from an Angel. Nope. 

He got up slowly. Lying piece of shit. Deans anger was barely suppressed by Castiel.

“Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing.” Even though Dean was angry beyond measure and was ready to fight at a moments notice, he couldn’t help but drag his eyes over the angels features. The ugly trench coat could go and Castiel would be the hottest man Dean ever had the privilege to meet. 

“This is your problem Dean. You have no faith.” 

Faith never helped Dean in the past and he knew it surely couldn’t help the feeling growing in his chest with every second he spent around Castiel. 

In a flashy moment of lightening and thunder that seemed to appear to impress Dean watched as the shadow of large bird wings appeared behind the angel. Goddammit. But what asshole angel would hurt Pamela like that. 

“Some angel you are, you burned out that poor woman’s eyes.” 

“I warned here not to spy on my true form. It can be overwhelming to humans..”

Dean was sent back to the moment it happened and was filled with dread as he remembered the moment in which he was too filled with happiness and light that he barely noticed what was actually happening. 

“..And so can my real voice but you already knew that.” 

“The gas station and the hotel. That was you talking?”

Castiel nodded, and his eyes were full of Dean viewed as innocence. He anger melted away. He couldn’t stay mad especially since he was struggling to keep composure in the first place. 

“Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”

Their eyes flitted to the floor for a quick second. 

“That was my mistake. Some people- Certain people- Can perceive my true visage. I thought you might be one of them. I was wrong.”

For some reason that made Dean really fucking sad. He wasn’t good enough to perceive the very thing that had been seemingly taunting him for days. 

“And what visage are you in now, huh? What- holy tax accountant?” 

“This? This is a vessel. “ 

Dean stomach dropped. Demons used vessels too, but that was never good. Castiel was probably, if he hadn’t already, killing the guy. 

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?” 

“He’s a devout man. He actually prayed for this.” 

Dean’s distrust had been drudged back up by this one detail. Some poor guy was dying because an “angel” wanted to fuck around in his body. 

“Look, pal, I’m not buying what your selling. So who are you really?” 

Castiel looked confused. 

“I told you.”

Dean nodded sarcastically. “Right. And why would an Angel rescue me from Hell?” He must be adapting to Castiel or he was just used to the feeling already if he could think this clearly for the first time in their conversation. 

“Good things do happen, Dean.” They walked closer to him as they spoke.

“Not in my experience.” Dean shot back, he was beyond pissed and he was attempting to regain his adrenaline. 

“What’s the matter you don’t think you deserve to be saved?” 

Dean felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Of course he didn’t, but Fuck, he didn’t have to say it. Hearing the insecurity said aloud was horrible and he wanted to smother the open confession back into whatever hole it belonged in. He lowered his eyes and stared straight into the angels, ignoring the electricity that came with it. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, challenging Castiel to redeem him in any way. 

“Because God commanded it.” 

Dean was close to hyperventilating now, God, God doesn’t exist. 

“Because we have work for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the 6 people on TikTok that spurred me to write this.


End file.
